


The Things That Keep Us Bound

by rekishi



Category: Coldfire - Friedman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekishi/pseuds/rekishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damien is faced with a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things That Keep Us Bound

The chairs meant for visitors in the new Patriarch's office were meant to be uncomfortable, lest anyone chose to remain longer than was strictly necessary. A man much younger than his predecessor, barely into his fifth decade of life. He also, in all likelihood, wasn't an adept, had never affected the fae any more than any regular man on the streets.

Not that it mattered now, in a world where no one could willingly Work the fae any longer, unless he was willing to pay with his life.

Damien sat in one of those chairs and watched the new head of the Church, standing at the window, seemingly contemplating what lay beyond. The former priest knew better. It was an action meant to make him nervous, wondering why he had been been called here when he had resigned out of his own accord and not tried to return, after Shaitan. Damien had spent too much time with Gerald Tarrant and his mind games to fall for this man, who had nothing on the former Prophet.

"We have become aware," the other man now finally said in a low voice but without turning around and Damien had to wonder if he meant the congregation of the Church or if he was employing the majestic plural, "that the man who fashioned himself to be the Hunter has not died by Andrys Tarrant's sword after all. His malignancy is still palpable and there have been people who encountered a man they swore was this parasite even though he wore a different face. A face they were unable to describe or even remember afterward." It was only now that he would face the former priest of his Church. "That is the reason why we called you here."

Damien had felt his heart turn cold as ice after the first few words and was now having difficulties to face the other man over the expanse of floor that separated them; he had to force the words out. "I don't understand, your Holiness."

An almost wistful look was turned on him. "The man who held the office of the Patriarch previously was a rather forceful individual. He did what he thought was right and he did not much care about what victims he left by the roadside in the end, as long as it furthered the sanctity of the Church and undermined its influence on the general populace. But he also was fastidious and left detailed notes regarding everything, even his plans for his own Sacrifice.

"Those notes included mention of a kind of channel formed between your own mind and that of the Hunter. We also are aware of the fact, that the Holy Father all but pressured you into your decision to leave the services of the Church." The gaze turned expectant and Damien came aware that he was supposed to answer.

"That channel burned away with the Hunter's death." Not a lie, not exactly the truth either but it was not for the Patriarch to know how often Gerald had died in those last few days of his former existence. "Accessing it for myself has always been exceedingly difficult and I'm not aware at how this knowledge would aid you in what you seek to do." What that was had become awfully clear to Damien, even without it having been voiced.

"Mer Vryce, a man such as yourself, with your talents and your sheer physical appearance certainly has no shortage of work. However, you have been raised by the Church, the Matriarch of the Western Autarchy sent you here on a mission you were unable to fulfill due to various interferences and are now unable to do so since the forces known as the Fae have become unusable. In spite of these developments, we are sure you would still be an invaluable asset to the Church in various areas and we also are sure you will find no more fulfilling work elsewhere."

"And the condition for my recalling is that I kill the Hunter?"

"To deliver us definite proof of his final demise would be preferable. You're the person most suited to this mission, since even if the channel has burned out, there will surely be an echo of it that will eventually lead you to his whereabouts. Even if you should be unable to recall his features as well, you will know. That is all. Good day, Mer Vryce."

Later Damien sat in his dingy little apartment, contemplating his sword and the new pistol he both held in his hands in the dimming light.

Gerald, or the man who had once been Gerald, was alive and well. He knew that with as much certainty as he knew his mother's name. Not just from the short meeting at the Black Ridge Pass Inn, during which the features of the young noble had burned themselves into his memory so deep he was astonished he didn't dream of them every night. Damien also knew where the young man was right at that moment, he could find him in less than a day's ride. The bond between them was still active, not quite as strong as it had been in the end but there was a remnant, more than an echo, that still carried information should Damien wish to know. He had no doubt that if one of them experienced danger or extreme distress, the other would know. He just had not known what to look for, before that fateful meeting.

He had lied to the Patriarch.

There was no good reason why he should not have. Damien was no servant of the Church of Human Unification, he was not liable to the Patriarch in any way, safe following his own compelling morality. And yet the lie had bit even through the cold encasing his heart.

Being perfectly honest with himself, Damien knew he missed the Church. No matter if he went to worship or not, no matter if he kept talking to God on his own, it wasn't the same as actively serving the cause. And he still believed in the cause; he had seen, _felt_ the evidence of His presence, how could he ignore it? Even with the fae un-Workable now and mankind able to develop more complicated mechanisms, the Church was not a dispensable organization. Now more than ever people needed guidance in the various matters, and that didn't even include the revelation of what exactly the Iezu were.

And here he was, with what was basically a general pardon for all his digressions on the table for one single deed.

To kill Gerald Tarrant, for good.

But Gerald was more than just the dreaded and feared Hunter. Gerald, in his old or even his new identity, was what Andrys Tarrant as the new Neocount would never accomplish to be, no matter how hard he tried. Andrys had been born into nobility but he certainly hadn't earned it, he had none of Tarrant's natural grace, none of the airs the older man surrounded himself with even without the fae, none of his will, his charisma, his determination. Gerald's mind was a depth of unknown proportion, his hunger for knowledge rivaled by nothing and no one Damien had ever encountered.

He had fought with and for a lot of people in his life; never had he expected the Prophet or the Hunter to be among either of them. Never would he forget, not allow himself to.

Gerald had transformed from an, at best, erratic travel companion to the only person Damien would have, and had, entrusted his life to. They had shared death.

It was an impossible choice.

Never would a Divining have been more welcome.

As the last of the natural light faded from the room, Damien Kilcannon Vryce still sat in his chair with both his weapons in his hands, staring unseeing into the past and what he perceived to be possible futures. It would be several hours yet before he returned both accoutrements to their harness, slipped into it and left the room, never banishing the darkness.

-Fin-


End file.
